Gentlemen, I feel as if I need to share this story with y'all about a lady I work with. I know, I know it's a story about work so how can this possibly not be terrible? I agree with the initial disdain because let's face it, the only exciting thing about work is the paychecks it provides me to be able to provide myself with booze and the occasional dinner date to schmooze a lady friend here and there.
I digress. Before I begin I need to paint a couple pictures. First, this lady I speak of, who we shall refer to as CP because those are her initials which I just realized as I typed that that those are the same initials as mine for this blog (disclaimer: I did not pick my name to reflect her initials but she probably seeped into my subconscious somehow). This is the lady at work, 40ish with two kids an ex-husband that she absolutely loathes, and will deal with personal matters consistently and loudly on her work phone not giving two shits who is within earshot and very animated. She also cleans houses and apartments on the side for extra cash and this becomes important later. I, however, have no problem with her because she works hard, a little neurotic at times, but most of all it keeps me entertained. I overheard her tell a story one morning that during her morning commute to work an angry road rager behind her got out of his car and was pounding on her window for something she may or may not have done. The weirdest shit happens to this lady and I love it.
Picture number 2. At my job, before we kick off any meeting we always have to start with a safety moment. For example, put sunscreen on before lengthened exposure in the sun. Boom! Safety moment. Yesterday morning was my weekly team meeting and as soon as I cross under the doorway she announces that she has a safety moment. Yes. I grab a chair, grab my proverbial bowl of popcorn and sit back and wait. The night prior she was cleaning a vacant apartment and had her little daughter with her because apparently she has her own tiny little cleaning supplies and cleans the little tiny crevices because she likes to help mommy out. At one point CP's vacuum catches on fire. As soon as that leaves her mouth I'm already hearing the crescendo building for what is about to come. Shortly after this is ablaze the smoke detectors start going off and now she's worried that sprinkler system might kick on and she's trying to figure out what to do with the sweeper. Amidst all this chaos and confusion (hilarity for me) her little daughter (who is not on fire) begins to stop, drop and roll because that is what they taught her in school. During her frantic fight or flight instincts playing tug of war to decide which action she should take, she decides to usurp the instinctual decision makers and throws the flaming sweeper into the abyss which I can only imagine looks like a comet with a majestic tail cascading into the night.
This had myself and the rest of our team in hysterics and I feel as if I could have weekly blog posts just about CP. Now that I think about it, I hired her to clean my house before I put it on the market. I don't even have a balcony. What if that vacuum catches on fire in the most heavily carpeted area of my house, the basement?
I need a beer.
-Chuck
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